Fall to Pieces
by SLSheartsRKO
Summary: After an unexpected surprise on WWE's European Tour, will Randy Orton and Candice Michelle - two people who can't stand the sight of one another - be able to find a way through it all and possibly fall in love? Features Jickie and Wade Barrett.
1. Waking Up

_I was rereading over this and just couldn't help but notice all of the mistakes that I've made. It was probably a dumb decision, but I thought I would rewrite and not only fix the mistakes, but make the story better. I feel as though my writing style as improved over the years, so I might be able to make this more than it once was._

_ Please review and let me know what you guys think. It would be greatly appreciated._

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><p>~ <span>Chapter 1 – Waking Up<span> ~

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><p>The sound of a car honk was enough to wake Candice Michelle out of a deep slumber, her chocolate brown eyes flying open at the sudden, loud sound, only for her to quickly close them, the bright light seeping through the curtains too intense for her unready orbs. Groaning, Candice rolled over and buried her head in the pillow, an aching throb in her temples taking over her sleepy thoughts. She had never felt as miserable as she did right then, and she vowed to herself that she'd never pick up another alcoholic beverage again. Candice sighed and tried to organize her muddled thoughts long enough to remember exactly what happened last night. Her memories were scattered, sort of like an assortment of puzzle pieces – it was all there, but without the full picture, it was hard to tell what to search for. Coming to the conclusion that it was just too early for her enervated brain to come up with a logical answer for her whereabouts the previous evening Candice decided that a shower was probably the next best option since sleep wasn't any more now that she was awake. Slowly sitting up, the brunette eased her eyes open, allowing the light to momentarily blind her before getting them adjusted to the bright rays. It was then that Candice notice that she was naked. Gasping, she grabbed one of the many blankets on the bed and covered herself, wrapping it around her as her eyes then took in the sight of the hotel room she was in. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and on some of the furniture, shoes tossed about the room in a careless fashion. The place was a complete mess – something that Candice would never allow in her hotel room.<p>

Something caught her eyes, though – besides the disarray of clothing that littered the floor – and as she slowly got up, being mindful about the pounding in her head and the brightness of the room – Candice made her way to it. There was a shirt that was tossed on the armchair by the big bay window, a very familiar shirt that was screaming out in recognition, but due to her fatigue, it wasn't registering as fast as it would have on a regular basis. Reaching out, Candice took a hold of the shirt and it was then did it click. The surprise was unmistakable, but not only was there that, but the confusion of it all came, as well. _Why on earth would _his_ shirt be in my room?_ Candice thought as her brows furrowed, her hands dropping the shirt back on the armchair in disgust. Deciding again that there were just too many questions for such a foggy morning, Candice yawned and rubbed her temple as she turned back around to head to the bathroom only for her to gasp when her chocolate brown eyes fell on yet another surprise.

Lying on the other side of the bed, his face half buried in the pillow was none other than Randy Orton.

There was a minute of complete shock as Candice stared at the sleeping form of Randy as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing – and she couldn't. She had absolutely no idea why Orton was occupying half of her bed and, to be totally honest, she didn't really want to find out. In doing so would reveal a night she obviously shared with the man and she didn't know if she could stomach finding out the details. Randy moaned and rolled over, the covers sliding down even more, exposing a chiseled chest, a mouthwatering six-pack that any girl – minus Candice – would drool over, and those jutting hipbones, the V-cut that was oh so visible, teasing, but not divulging in what lied beneath that blanket. It was only after looking over Orton that Candice realized that, like her, he was _completely_ naked, which brought on a new question – _What in the hell did we do?_

Lifting her left hand up to rub her temple, Candice was left with one more huge surprise – sitting on her ring finger was a wedding band and an engagement ring, glistening whenever the light touched it.

"Oh, my God," Candice shrieked. It was impossible to contain the sheer panic that was welling up inside of her right then, threatening to spill over at any given moment. "What the hell!"

Jumping with a start, lurching up into a sitting position, Randy groaned and grabbed his head, glaring in aggravation at the woman who woke him. "What the fuck!"

No words could escape through the brunette's lips as she stared at the two rings that employed a very sacred finger. Her mind was running a million miles a minute, her stomach compressing and untightening in a very disorienting motion, that Candice was certain she was going to throw up her bodily contents all over the cold, oak floor beneath her bare feet.

With her face blanching several shades, the man still residing in the huge bed must have finally come to the conclusion that something was most definitely not right. Even still, that didn't stop Randy from straightening his posture, his icy, pale blue eyes casting a hard look at the woman wrapped in a beige blanket, standing in the center of the room.

"Candice, what in the hell is going on here?" His voice was stipulating and angry sounding as he peered over at the brunette, the need for answers driving at him. When he received no answer in reply, Orton sighed impatiently and ran a hand over his face. She was obviously in shock over something – _probably because I woke up before she could sneak out of the hotel room_, Randy thought, but right after he had that contemplation, a strange feeling came over him. Furrowing his brow, Orton pulled his head out of his hands and gaped at the astonishment at what he saw before him.

Resting on his left hand, wrapped around his ring finger was a thick, silver band.

"Candice, what in the hell is going on here!" Clamping a hand over his mouth after his shocking outburst, Randy tore his eyes away from the disk around his finger and turned his attention momentarily to Candice, who slowly sunk down into a nearby chair, her eyes still giving a faraway expression. Looking back at the wedding ring wrapped around his finger, Randy could feel his inhalations increasing with each passing second. "Oh my, God … oh my, God ... my God, my God … what the fuck happened!"

"I don't know what happened, Randy," Candice replied, her voice shaking and full of unrecognizable fear. She had no idea what had happened and, the more she strained herself to remember, the more Candice realized that she couldn't. The retentions of last night were blank and impassive; as though she had been knocked in the head, her memory wiped clean. And though she certainly felt as though she had been bashed in the head, the brunette was fairly confident that that was not the case.

"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?" Turning his head sharply in her direction, Randy's eyes narrowed into thinner slits, his entire body as still as a Greek statue. Like Candice, Orton couldn't recall a single thing that happened last night. A part of him – a very dominant part – was kind of thankful for that. If having no memory at all saved him from remembering what they did that night then Randy was all for it. There was that nagging sensation, however, that kept him from disregarding and overlooking it altogether.

Suspecting a fight coming along, Candice reached up and rubbed her delicate temple, her eyes falling shut once again to recoup some of her sanity. In all honesty, Candice Michelle felt like she was losing it completely, as though she was only dreaming and that she would wake up at any given second and laugh off this incredibly vivid dream. But deep down, the brunette knew that it wasn't a dream … that she wasn't going to be laughing anything off. And it was with that thought in mind that weakened Candice, wearing her down instantly.

Not taking her silence kindly, Randy carelessly threw the covers off of his body and sprang to his feet, unaware that there was nothing shielding the rest of his naked body. Of course, the man was too far gone, too exasperated to notice, which was why he continued ranting.

"Look at me, damn it! What the fuck did you do!" Storming around the huge bed, Orton's eyes remained locked on Candice, who simply stared at him with a blank, wary countenance. The dubious expression only seemed to anger Randy all the more. A deep growl emanating from deep within his throat, the man marching closer, standing right in front of Candice's sitting frame. "Snap out of it, bitch, and tell me what you did! What the fuck happened! Why in the holy hell do I have this ring on my fucking finger!"

Suppressing a sigh, Candice closed her eyes and shook her head before looking up at the fuming man before her. Her brown irises – though tired – never wavered from Orton's as she glared at him. "Put some clothes on for God's sake."

Candice could feel Randy suddenly tense, his entire body immobilizing as he took in her words, rolling them around before finally digesting them. He didn't need to look down to see if Candice was telling the truth or not. With his anger aside and the adrenaline decelerating, Orton could feel the smoothness of his skin, as well as the coolness of the room, the air conditioner against the wall doing a marvelous job at keeping the entire area chilly. Clearing his throat, trying to keep what dignity he had left, Randy slowly turned around and made his way to the bathroom, the soles of his feet treading heavily across the oak flooring as he grabbed his bag before walking into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. It wasn't long before Candice heard the cracking sound, followed by shattering pieces of glass falling onto the counter and in the sink, and the brunette knew that Orton had probably just plowed his fist into the mirror.

Following Randy's lead, Candice slowly stood to her feet and made her way across the room. After unzipping her bag – which was resting on the couch with the rest of her and Randy's bags – the brunette pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt. She barely remembered putting on her clothes, her mind still numb over the revolution of the discovery. She couldn't even bring herself to admitting what had happened; she was too afraid of her reaction _when_ she actually did. No, for now, it was probably best if she just allowed herself to fully process what had occurred last night. Candice was scared, she was in shock, and that was probably why she couldn't recall anything that happened. When she gave herself the chance to calm down and to relax, maybe then would she be able to figure out what the hell went down and how to fix the mistake, but until then …

"Alright, start talking," Randy said as he stormed out of the bathroom adorned in a pair of loose-fitting jeans. Tossing his bag on top of the rest of their bags, his icy eyes remained clinched on her brown orbs. His right fist – which he used as a weapon against the bathroom mirror – was throbbing, as was his head, but at the moment, a fear so compelling was taking over all of what he was feeling. It was something he had never felt before and, quite frankly, it was something he never wanted to experience again. Randy was close to completely losing it and it took a lot to make Orton absolutely terrified. "No games, no snippy remarks – just tell me what you did."

"You really think I had something to do with this?" Candice laughed pitifully. It was either that or crying, and there was no way she was going to give Orton the privilege of seeing her cry. Instead, Candice turned around and started pacing back and forth along the length of the room, her eyes on the floor. "I don't know what happened last night. I don't remember anything."

"Right and you expect me to believe that?"

"I don't really give a damn what you believe, Orton," She shot the man an annoyed look to match the tone of her voice. Despite their grievances and their complete hate for one another – and as shocked as she felt by thinking this – Candice knew that it was probably best if they were on the same page. Of course, that meant she would now have to convince him to think the same way if they wanted to figure out what and how … _this_ … happened. "Look, Randy, I know we don't get along and I know we wouldn't really give a damn if either of us got hit by a bus, but I'm telling the truth. I don't know what happened. What I do know is that we'd have to be pretty damn drunk to actually get–"

"Don't say it," Groaning, Randy sank down on the bed and rubbed his eyes before burying his head in his hands. The more he thought, the more vigorous the pounding in his temples became. He felt pitiful and helpless to the crisis.

"No, Randy, we need to talk about this," She shocked herself as she pressed forward, turning her entire body around to focus on the man sitting on the bed – a bed they had both woken up in … completely naked. Clearing her throat, Candice pushed those disconcerting thoughts to the back of her head. "We got _married_ last night. We need to get this straightened out. We can't put it off."

"I'm not putting this off, Candice," Randy growled, his eyes narrowing into those venomous slits. "My head is killing me right now and, without the proper medication, I'm not going to be talking anything out."

With a retort on the tip of her tongue, it took almost everything the brunette had not to lash out and curse Orton out right then and there. What would it solve? Sure, it would make her feel a bit better about their situation, but it wouldn't help. It wouldn't change the fact that they were married. It wouldn't anything at all. And as much as she hated it – especially when it came to Orton – sometimes ignoring him and being the bigger person was considered necessary.

Letting out an incensed sigh, Candice ran a hand through her hair and nodded her head. She had to admit, he did have a point. Her temples were throbbing painfully and forcing herself to remembering what happened last night wasn't doing her any justice at all. "Okay – you're right. But we need to talk about this."

"I know."

The impending silence that followed was full of tension and a lot of awkwardness. With Candice looking at anything that wasn't Randy, said man had his eyes trained on the floor, his motives similar to Candice's. Both had a lot on their minds, a lot to sort out. The brunette, however, couldn't handle sorting those feelings out with Orton right there. She needed to be alone. Going back to her bag, Candice slowly started to make her way to the bathroom, tossing an excuse over her shoulder before disappearing into the lavatory before closing the door behind her.

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><p><em> So that's the first chapter. How did I do? Better than the first version, I hope. This is dedicated to Courtney!<em>


	2. Figuring Things Out

_ Thank you – __**xSilentWhispersx**__, __**Eve. Candice. Cena. Orton. 4life**__, __**MelinaJeff1**__, and __**Viper Cena Fan**__ – for the reviews. They all meant a lot to me!_

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><p>~ <span>Chapter 2 – Figuring Things Out<span> ~

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><p>The sound of the clock ticking unmercifully on the wall was the only thing Randy Orton could concentrate on as he buried his head in his hands. Running a hand through his buzz-cut hair, the man groaned softly and shook his head; he was unable to deem what he had woken up to. His breath was coming out quickly, though he tried to suppress it – the thought of hyperventilation, the thought of capitulation to someone else's whim only invigorated his attempts at keeping a leveled head. He hadn't moved from the arthritic posture he found himself in after the news, his body bent and slouched, but at the moment, the sprawling position was the last thing on his mind. The pulsation in his temples hadn't lessened in the slightest, and Randy was beginning to speculate if it ever would. It wouldn't astonish him if it didn't, though. The man was impeccable at drawing unwanted problems, as well as attracting trouble. Like metal to a magnet, Orton found himself in a compromising position, married – actually <em>married<em> – to the one person in the world he hated more than himself. He didn't know what to do, didn't know where to even begin cogitating next. All he did grasp was that there was no way he could spend another second hypothesizing what had happened last night. The more he thought about it, the more powerful the thundering in his temples became, and he knew he couldn't handle the unforgiving hangover, as well as Candice Michelle at the same time. Just thinking about the woman who gave him undesired hell was enough to elicit yet another groan.

Finally shifting from his current position on the soft bed, Randy planted both of his feet on the hardwood floor and padded over to his bag, unzipping and pulling out a small medicine bag he always carted around with him while he was on the road – which was pretty much all the time. Letting out a tired, worn sigh, Orton pulled out the bottle of Tylenol and popped the cap off, pouring a couple of the white tablets into the palm of his hand before dropping them into his mouth. After discarding the medicine bag, Randy walked over to the mini-fridge, which was in the tiny kitchen, and pulled out a bottle of water. Taking a generous amount – and swallowing the two tablets – Randy put the cap back on the bottle and looked around the chaotic room. The events of the night before were still a huge puzzle and the more he thought about it, the more frustrated and incensed he got. _What in the hell could have possibly happened to make me that fucking drunk_? Randy thought as he slammed the bottle of water onto the coffee table, swatting away a black piece of lingerie – that was obviously Candice's – with palpable disgust. A scowl on his face, the man let out a huff and crossed his arms, his pale, icy eyes locked on the mess that was their hotel room. There was a reason Randy Orton hardly ever drank and _this_ was why. 'No' was a difficult word for Orton to say, and it had gotten him into a lot of trouble in the past.

Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, Randy slowly massaged his temples, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was building up the more he thought about his undetermined outing with a person he hated with a passion. Being completely honest, the last thing Orton wanted to do was figure out what happened – the thought of doing anything sexual with that woman was both repellant and ghastly – but it didn't excuse what he had woken up to – and in what state. Lying in an unfamiliar bed with an odious companion, naked and covered with a blanket, it wasn't hard for Orton to assemble the pieces, no matter how lethargic and diffident the man was. That was the part that petrified him the most – knowing that something must have happened, but being too timorous to actually say it. Not that he'd actually remember, anyway. Everything that regarded that elapsed night was hidden in the jumble that was his psyche.

Before he could even gather the valor to delve into the darkness that was his mind to decipher the anonymities that was last night, the bathroom door opened and out walked the insufferable Candice Michelle, her long, brown hair cascading over one of her shoulders. Her eyes held a worn, tender look to them as she searched around the room, her dark irises finally resting on the man on the couch. If possible, the look in her eyes drained even more before she broke the contact, turning and making her way sluggishly over to the bed. She lifted her left hand up to her face, as though she were getting ready to rub her aching temples, but the second she realized that the wedding band and engagement ring was on that finger, Candice immediately dropped it. And it was then that Randy finally regarded the silver disk that was wrapped around his own finger. The second his eyes connected with the ring, it was as though the object started to weigh him down, his hand growing heavy the longer he stared at the silver disk that circulated his ring finger. Tearing his gaze from one of the many problems that plagued him this morning, Randy turned his attention to the other hindrance that was in the room. Candice was slowly making her way around the room, retrieving some of her clothes and accessories that were thrown around last night in a hazardous way. Her body was wobbling – that much could be seen – and she didn't seem at all steady, the astonishment of what happened still all too fresh in her mind, making the thundering in her own temples all the more unbearable for the brunette. Distinguishing it for himself, Orton let out a lax, maddened growl before going back to the medicine bag and pulling out the bottle of Tylenol again, as well as another bottle of water from the mini-fridge. Slamming the contents on the counter – easily gaining the attention of the brunette – Randy stormed back over to the couch and plopped down. They needed to talk, no matter how much the two would rather not. It had to be done – they had to somehow put together the pieces of last night first before they were able to proceed any further.

Taking the hint, Candice walked over to the counter and eyed the Tylenol bottle warily, as though she didn't trust what was inside the container in the slightest. She narrowed her brown eyes before darting a vicious glare in Orton's direction. _What – he's suddenly taking control over the situation now?_ Candice thought angrily as she removed the cap. Once two tablets were in the palm of her slender hand, the brunette left the Tylenol on the counter where it was and grabbed the water bottle instead, slowly making her way over to the couch with caution and carefulness. She sat down on one of the armchairs that were seated across from the couch and popped the two white tablets into her mouth before taking a plentiful gulp of water to swallow the pills down. Only then did Orton regard her and, when those icy pale eyes locked on her, the brunette wished he didn't, because in those eyes was accusation. In those eyes was allegation and it sent another wave of antagonism flowing through Candice – the thought of Randy Orton blaming her for something she couldn't even remember was enough to almost make her slap the man across the face. She forced herself to calm down, though. There was no need in getting riled up. If anything, that was probably what Orton wanted her to do, so she'd admit to the false accusations thus he could be proven right. He wasn't, though. Whether the two liked to admit it or not, they were in the same boat, the same predicament. And whether they liked it or not, they needed each other to help elucidate the obscurities that were last night.

"We obviously can't remember what happened last night that led to … _this_," Randy started, glowering at the silver disk that was around his finger. Tearing his gaze from the ring, he continued to stare at a single spot on the cold, oak flooring. "Can you remember anything that happened yesterday at all?"

"No," Candice answered as she furrowed her brows.

"Are you even trying?" Randy barked, snapping his gaze from the floor to Candice. The look in his eyes was so full of abhorrence and fury that, if Candice wasn't just as ireful, she probably would have flinched at the power. "How in the hell do you expect us to get out of this shit if you aren't even going to put in the effort! Or is that your plan all along – get me drunk and hitched with you then make it impossible for me to get out of it?"

"Oh, you are such an egotistical bastard!" Candice yelled, jumping to her feet, the thundering in her temples momentarily forgotten as she scowled at Orton, her hands clenching into tight fists. "I detest _everything_ about you! Why on God's green earth would I do anything to warrant your presence around me more so than I already have to be!" Compelled to calm down, to not give into the alluring thoughts of murdering the man here and now, Candice respired and centered before continuing. "For once in your miserably pathetic life, stop thinking about yourself. _I'm_ stuck in this nightmare, too. I _don't_ want this any more than you do."

"You don't have to be a bitch about it."

"What do you remember?" Candice demanded through gritted teeth. Her self-control was getting harder and harder to restrain, and a little voice in the back of her head told her that that was probably what Orton wanted – for her to lose all type of control over the situation and just lash out, giving him a reason to fight her back.

Her suspicions on the topic were confirmed the second Orton narrowed his icy pale eyes at the ordering tone of her voice. His lips pursed tightly, as though he was refraining himself from answering to her petitions, but eventually decided to just give in, to suck it up so they could come up with an analytical deduction of what the hell happened to them.

"Checking into the hotel," He finally answered his voice tight. "I remember following John down to the bar while Mickie and you were in the room."

Nodding her head, the brunette slowly sank back down onto the armchair as her mind drudged through the blurriness that was her mentality. She could vaguely remember stepping out of John's monster of a truck, the four having decided to travel together since they were able. Flashes and pieces later, Candice could remember talking to Mickie about – ironically – her and Randy's behaviour for the duration of their travels.

_"You know, you two might actually like each other if you'd take the chance," Mickie's chipper voice reasoned as she pulled some of her clothing from the suitcase that was resting on top of one of the beds. "Randy's not such a bad guy – misunderstood and troubled, but not bad."_

_ "To be honest with you, I don't want anything to do with him. He's a pain in the ass, a jerk to me and everyone who even remotely tries to be nice to him, and a waste of my time, especially when he's going to start acting like he's better than I am," Candice shook her head as she plopped down onto one of the big, comfy seats that was stationed in front of the window, a beautiful view of the city at her full disposal. _

_ "Candice, I'm telling you, he's a good person-"_

_ Not even bothering to hear the rest of Mickie's attempts at humanizing the man, Candice merely shook her head and rejected the prospect. Randy Orton was an angry, perilous, detached individual, and the brunette was more than confident about her assessment._

_ "I hate him."_

"What else?" Randy asked, pushing himself off the couch. Crossing his arms, Orton started to pace back and forth in front of Candice, his countenance full of concentration as he pressed himself through the fogginess of last night. "Do you remember the, uh … fuck," Sighing impatiently, the man plopped back down onto the cushions. "I don't know."

"Well, don't give up – we need answers here," Candice encouraged. Pushing a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear, she stood up, looking around the room as though the answers they required were somewhere in there. Of course, before she had the chance to voice her speculation, her brows furrowed as she looked around. "Randy … where are we?"

Reality seemed to triumph over the both of them as they scanned the room they were in, their hearts dropping as they revealed yet another question to the mounting pile that was already stacked above their heads. The hotel room they were in had a lavender theme, the colour covering the walls as the furniture had a tan hue to it. It was beautiful, the fixtures looking new and immaculate in their places. The bar in the far corner had a wonderful assortment of alcoholic beverages amassed on the shelves with crystal-like glasses arranged nicely to the side. But no matter how perfect it appeared to be, it was most definitely not the room they checked into the day before – that much they were sure of.

"How the fuck did we not see this before?" Randy demanded, the shock subsiding from him first. Rounding on the brunette, Orton shoved his finger in her face, the tone of his voice warning. "I'm telling you now, Candice, if you-"

Slapping the man's digit out of her face, Candice placed her hands on his bare chest and shoved him as far as her potency would allow before taking a threatening step forward. "I swear to God, Randy, if you so much as blame this one on me, too, then I'm going to kick you so hard in the nuts that you won't be able to walk right for a month!"

Randy balled his fist up and turned away from Candice, shaking his head indignantly as he walked off, not trusting himself around her with the way he was feeling at that moment. He needed space, needed answers, and for the life of him, he _needed_ to wake up from the hell he was currently in. Unfortunately for him, the peace he so desperately sought evaporated when he heard the light stomps of Candice's feet on the hardwood flooring as she stormed after him.

"I am so tired of this, Randy! God, why are you acting like such an asshole! I have no idea what the hell happened and neither do you! Maybe _you're _the reason why we are stuck like this! Maybe _you're_ the reason why we are going through this hell!"

"Oh, please, Candice, like I'd actually get drunk enough to where I asked _you_ to marry _me_! How daft do you think I am!" Randy shouted back, not at all backing down as he stepped towards her, a fire igniting in those icy pale eyes. Words couldn't describe how utterly enraged he really was at that moment.

"Pretty stupid, actually," Candice immediately retorted, glaring up at the taller man before her. She was only partially aware of how tightly her fists were clenched. She longed to pull her fist back and punch Orton as hard as she could in the face, to cause him pain. _Violent _was not a characteristic Candice would describe herself as, but whenever she was in the company of Randy Orton, that most certainly was true.

Breaking the eye contact, the man glanced down at her closed hands, witnessing the quivering form of Candice's body. He knew that she wasn't afraid of him, the fire in her brown eyes was unmistakable enough – she was shaking, because she was so furious, because she wanted more than anything to inflict pain upon him. Of course, he knew that she wouldn't be able to do hardly anything before he took power over the situation, enabling her from the gratification of pulling one over him. Smirking down at Candice, Randy straightened up, coming to his full height as he glowered down at the brunette.

"Go ahead, Candice – _hit me_. Go ahead and try it, I dare you," Randy could feel the blood coursing through his veins as he stared down Candice, could feel the adrenaline race through his body as he shifted from foot to foot, prepping himself for the fight that was more than likely going to stem the second Candice raised her fist. Only nothing happened … "What are you waiting for, huh? Chickening out already? Come on, I'm giving you a free shot now. Do it," Orton narrowed his eyes as he watched Candice relax some, her tightly clenched hand slowly coming loose as she stared back at Randy, her gaze complacent, which only seemed to infuriate the man all the more. Taking another step forward, Randy couldn't control the height of his volume as he shouted at the brunette. "Hit me! DO IT!"

"Why in the hell would I give you the satisfaction?" Candice hissed, the arrogance in her voice provoking Orton, challenging his restraint. "You are a miserable person, a pathetic excuse for a man who is completely devoid of emotion. Why would I do the one thing that you crave?" Taking a step forward, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller, Candice shook her head, a tiny grin appearing on her lips. "I won't be the reason you feel, whether it be pain or grief."

"Oh, but you do," Randy replied back, his voice just as soft as hers now. Like Candice before, his body was now shaking. The will to remain in control of his facilities testing him to the very limits, and Orton wasn't entire sure if he would be able to fight off the urge. "I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual, Orton. You have no idea."

Nothing else was said between the two, the hate-filled glares enough to speak volumes. Candice was privately reveling in her victory, knowing that she had struck a nerve in the man – the flashing in his eyes as she justified her lack of actions practically confirming her theory. She felt triumphant and pleased with herself, now knowing which buttons to press in order to bring the man commonly known as 'The Viper' down to his knees. Orton, on the other hand, was fuming. He hated the fact that he allowed the brunette in his head and, in doing so, mining out the one piece of information he wanted to keep to himself.

The sound of the phone ringing brought Candice and Randy back into reality, the pair immediately turning their heads, their gazes locking on the device that was sitting on the end-table that was positioned beside the window. Shooting a heated glare in Orton's direction, the brunette stepped away from the man and made her way over to the phone.

"Hello?" Candice greeted mildly when she picked up the receiver.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you at this time in the morning, but we have been getting complaints of a disturbance coming from your room. A lot of the residents have been hearing a bunch of shouting," The man on the other end of the line said. "Is everything alright?"

Candice snorted – like hell everything was going alright. "Actually no, I was wondering if you could help me with something," After awaiting for the man's approval, Candice turned around and looked at Randy who was still glaring daggers at her, though the intensity wasn't as great as it was only seconds before. "I'm sure you get this a lot, seeing as how we're in Las Vegas, but I mistakenly got married last night after consuming way too much alcohol and I'm in desperate need of an out. Where might I go to get a divorce?"

Candice was most certainly right about her idea. The manager of the hotel did indeed deal with patrons who took advantage of the marital booths and chapels that were scattered throughout Las Vegas. Nine times out of ten they were all mistakes, and the victims were more than ready to get a divorce and forget that the marriage had ever taken place. Sighing, the man at the counter relayed the same response to Candice as he did to everyone else.

"Take the license back to the place where you got married and they will take care of your divorce."

After a quick thanks and farewell, Candice slammed the phone back down onto the holder and focused in on Randy. Despite her anger and hatred towards the man, she couldn't help but grin up at him. _Finally_ she had an answer to the overwhelming pile of questions that was laid before them.

"I have our solution," Candice informed Randy. "All we have to do is take the marriage license back to the casino and they'll take care of it."

"Okay …"

"Okay? What in the hell is wrong with you? We can get this undone and move on with our lives. We can stay as far away from each other as humanly possible."

Shaking his head, Randy sighed impatiently. "As appealing as that is, you forgot to ask yourself one question … two really."

"And they are?" The amount of time it was taking Orton to riposte was pissing Candice off. Placing her hands on her hips, the brunette glared at Randy. "Spit it out already."

"Where did we get married? And where in the hell is that document?"

* * *

><p><em> How am I doing so far on this rewrite? I hope you guys are enjoying. I actually wasn't going to work on this story until later on this month, but knowing that my dear friend loves this story to pieces, I decided to get this chapter finished. So, like last time, this is dedicated to Courtney. <em>


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